


For King and Country

by carmenta



Category: Coldfire - Friedman
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-01
Updated: 2005-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-08 05:55:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carmenta/pseuds/carmenta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Church turns its back on its Prophet and Gannon cuts his losses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For King and Country

The talk focused on little things over dinner, pleasant and harmless enough not to inconvenience anyone. Little anecdotes from the times of Gannon's first campaigns, leaving out all those details too crude or violent for the women in his entourage, or the hostess. Though Almea Tarrant could probably have handled the tales and worse, if Gannon read her correctly. There was determination and tenacity behind that delicate face, and besides, a woman who dared ride out alone in the wilderness surrounding Merentha Castle probably had seen her share of demon bloodshed.

He found himself envying Gerald Tarrant. If he had known ten years ago that the wide-eyed, awkward girl would become such a woman, he might have made more of an effort. But he'd not found her intriguing enough at the time, and Tarrant's interest in her had been too sincere and serious for Gannon to interfere. It wouldn't have done to cause discord between himself and the man who won his campaigns over a woman, no matter how lovely she might be. Still, when he looked at her now he couldn't help wondering what it would be like to have a queen at his side who showed such loyalty and support towards her husband.

On the surface Gannon's wife was not so different: beautiful, intelligent, the very image of a Revivalist woman who fulfilled her protective and nurturing role. But with her it was an act, and he wasn't oblivious to her daily inner struggle between enjoying the benefits of her position and fighting the chafing confines. She believed in the King's power, while Tarrant's wife believed in the Neocount. The awareness of that wasn't entirely comfortable, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

And yet he was still thinking about this after dinner, when Gerald Tarrant invited him into his study so they could speak privately. That assumption of a need for secrecy was not so surprising after all the times they had come together in rooms like this to discuss the next campaign, the next targets to be achieved in the war for Church and power. How often had they sat together in rooms like this, poring over maps and troop lists and laying the foundation of Gannon's dominance of the human lands? He'd listened to Tarrant's first tentative ideas for the reformation of the Church in such a room, when it had all still seemed so surreal, a fancy dream of an unimportant youngest son of an unimportant minor noble.

They had come a long way since then. Gannon owed Tarrant much, he was well aware of that. But he had also repaid him amply, with titles and wealth that would normally have been far out of reach for him, with support in his discussions with the Church until Tarrant was influential enough to hold his own there. The younger man had been an essential part of his success, and he had been richly rewarded for it. Gannon held on to that thought.

"I hear that Westmark is not suffering from bandit activity anymore," Tarrant remarked, offering him a glass of wine. "The troops were fast to solve that problem."

"The plans for their reorganizing worked well," Gannon returned, for now grateful that they could stay on a relatively safe topic. They'd hatched this new structure for part of the army together, and it had turned out perfectly. Once the other parts of the realm were calm enough, the same would be done there so the troops would be suited to dealing with issues other than war. A smooth transition to peacetime, or at least as smooth as it could be.

Tarrant smiled a little. "They have a purpose now that is less abstract than the war. Until now they were fighting for the ideals of the Church, and for your power and influence. With their new tasks, they are protecting towns and villages from aggressors. This is easier to understand and easier to believe in."

"They also believe in the Church now, more than before. That helps." Gannon studied his wine, then took a sip and glanced at Tarrant. "You've been playing with this."

"A little experiment," Tarrant said. "Plants are surprisingly resilient to Working, but this generation of vines is finally producing adequate fruit."

Gannon sighed inwardly. He had hoped that Tarrant would have given up his magic by now, or that he would at least have realized that he shouldn't be taking such pleasure in it. That would have turned this visit into nothing more than a brief social call before the next campaign. But in the face of such obvious magic, no matter how enjoyable the results...

The Patriarch had been right, he realized. Tarrant wasn't going to give up his connection to the fae, no matter what.

"But I am sure you are not here to discuss the wine," Tarrant said, giving him an opening to turn this talk to more serious topics. "You have sent out orders to marshal part of the troops again."

How does he always know these things? The orders had been kept as private as possible, and Tarrant shouldn't have been aware of them since they didn't concern Merentha. And yet he had found out, as he always seemed to find out when the movement of soldiers was concerned. Gannon knew that if he asked, he'd get an explanation about currents and shifts and the fae, and so he stayed quiet. He could believe in the fae as a force that could change in the face of strong belief – the Church's success was a tangible demonstration of that – but no more than that. It wouldn't be good for him to believe in it.

"There is still hostile activity around Jaggonath," he said carefully. "Too much for the local militia to handle by themselves."

"And so you send the army," Tarrant completed. "A rather large part of it, too. And I imagine that the Church will not sit by idly either. They have no real presence in the east yet, so this is the perfect opportunity for them to establish a stronghold."

Gannon noticed that Tarrant was no longer speaking of the Church as we. He had done so, after the Patriarch had proclaimed him Prophet of the Law and had followed Gannon's suggestion to make him the head of the newly founded Order of the Golden Flame, the showcase of the martial aspect of the Church. If Tarrant was feeling the distance already, then he also had to be aware that this was only the beginning.

"When will you need me to be ready to leave?" Tarrant asked.

He took another sip of wine, grateful for the moment of respite it gave him. There was no easy way to say what he had come to say, but he still hesitated now that he faced the man who had practically built his realm. He had hoped that it wouldn't come to this, but during the day he had seen too much to be able to avert it now.

"You won't need to leave," he said carefully.

Tarrant's eyes narrowed, and even though that was the only outward sign of reaction, Gannon could tell that he was thinking furiously.

"Reginal is going to lead the campaign. You are of more use to me here." Safely out of sight, away from the troops and anyone who was easily influenced. Besides, Merentha still did need her Neocount's attention, even though he had achieved far more than what should have been possible while he'd been here.

The room seemed stifling at a sudden as Tarrant studied him, silver eyes stormy. There was an undercurrent of anger in the air, and for a moment Gannon thought he could taste the fury, as impossible as that was. Then it all vanished again, leaving him to wonder whether he had only imagined that the lamps had darkened and that there had been shadows taking shape in the corners.

"This is the Church's doing," Tarrant whispered.

Gannon sighed softly, then nodded. "The Patriarch doesn't want you to lead the troops," he said. He owed Tarrant honesty, at least.

"And you will not go against his wish because you need his support. More than you need my leadership." Tarrant shook his head, surprisingly calm. "I should have seen this coming."

"I'd put you in command if it weren't for the Church. You are a brilliant field commander and I know that you'd bring this to a successful end. But you have to understand my position; I need them, but they will not accept someone who goes against their laws. The Church will withdraw their support, and that will weaken the army."

Tarrant laughed, completely without humor. "I wrote their laws. I believe I would be aware if I were violating them."

"It's your sorcery they object to. You know that any Working that isn't done in the name of the Church bears the danger of heresy. Damn it, you've seen the results of that in the last war, when those idiots in Ganji started to make up their own religion. The men wouldn't follow a general who is accused of the same, and you can be certain that the Church will do it if you are in charge."

For a long while Tarrant simply looked at him, though Gannon was fairly sure that he wasn't really seeing anything. He didn't want to imagine what it had to be like to be cast out by one's own creation like that. But it was Tarrant's own fault; if he hadn't insisted on using the fae, then it wouldn't have come to this. Gannon pitied him, in a way, because he was certain that Tarrant hadn't expected his sorcery to have such serious results. But he had been warned.

"And so you are going to send an army without sorcerers to Jaggonath," Tarrant finally said, his voice even. "Close to a focus point of the dark fae that will be strong enough to spark demonlings at a fleeting thought. A moment of hesitation can do a lot of damage in such a place." He closed his eyes for a moment, but not before Gannon saw the bitterness in them. "Perhaps I should be glad that I will not be responsible for the outcome."

"They won't run into anything they haven't seen before. I've called in the most experienced regiments for that very reason." But even as he said this, Gannon couldn't quite help feeling doubtful about the outcome of the planned campaign for a moment, until he ruthlessly quenched that thought. On this planet, doubt wasn't something that could be afforded.

Tarrant nodded. "Then I wish them luck," he said calmly, meeting Gannon's gaze. But the storm still raged in the grey eyes, betraying that calmness.

"They'll be grateful for that." Gannon sighed. "You know that it isn't personal, don't you? You're my best general, there's no question about that. But the Church's support is vital, and there's no point in antagonizing them. Take the chance and rest. Enjoy your life here. Spend time with your children and your wife; they haven't seen much of you in the last years after all."

He knew Tarrant too well to believe even for a moment that his suggestions would even be considered. The Neocount was far too used to having something that needed his attention at all times, and whenever Gannon had seen him in a free moment, he'd been keeping himself busy with something, books or experiments or whatever else could keep his mind occupied. But surely he'd find something to do with himself here once his family tired of having all that attention focused on them. Something that didn't have anything to do with the fae and its Working, hopefully, because Gannon had no wish to be held responsible for Tarrant by the Church. The man was his general, that was all, and he was sending him out to pasture now. Whatever happened afterwards wasn't going to be Gannon's concern.

There wasn't anything else they needed to speak about, and since Tarrant didn't seem to want to talk about anything else, Gannon eventually announced that the journey had been exhausting and that he would retire now. Tarrant politely escorted him out of the room and summoned a servant to take care of him, then vanished again in his study. Gannon felt oddly relieved when the door closed behind him. Almost as though he had escaped a dangerous situation, although he had always been certain that Tarrant was loyal and that the man posed no threat whatsoever to him.

Sleep didn't come easily that night; his mind was too awake to let him rest for a long time. He thought about Tarrant's reaction and how it had been calmer than expected, and about his words on the campaign in Jaggonath. Gannon knew that it wasn't going to be easy, and he would have liked to have sorcerers with his troops. But he needed the Church more than that, and so it would be a purely human war this time, without the support of the fae. Mankind had done it before, so certainly it would be possible again, and wasn't it a step forward towards no longer relying on such a fickle force anymore?

But there was power in it, that was undeniable. And the Forest… the way Tarrant had spoken that name made Gannon feel uneasy. A concentration of the dark fae that seemed to simultaneously frighten and fascinate anyone who could See. Gannon had had it described to him in the past, a whirl of brilliantly dark currents, beautiful and terrible and undeniably powerful.

It was with that image in his mind that he finally fell asleep.

The next day, Tarrant did not appear until the afternoon, when Gannon and his entourage were about to leave. It didn't seem to be a deliberate slight, so Gannon let it pass, especially since the Neocountess had done her best to make up for her husband's absence. She had, however, not answered any questions about his whereabouts.

That Tarrant was not ready to face him wasn't so surprising. Gannon imagined that he had much to think about, and he'd certainly figured out by now that he was being retired and that he would not play an active role in Erna's future anymore. That knowledge would be painful, especially at that age and with such a driving ambition. But Tarrant was intelligent, so surely he'd see the reasoning behind Gannon's decision and accept it.

There really was no alternative. Tarrant or the Church, and while one man was expendable and exchangeable, the Church was too important to too many people – men who formed Gannon's army – that an insult would be idiocy. Gannon needed the Church, it was as simple as that. There were other generals with less controversial interests.

By the time Tarrant finally showed himself, Gannon had begun to wonder whether he would see him before leaving. But apparently the Neocount was aware of what kind of picture he would present if he did not bid his king farewell, and so he appeared just when Gannon was coming down the main stairs. The meeting was well timed; there were no servants within earshot, and Gannon's staff had already gone ahead to prepare the horses.

"I hope that you will have a peaceful journey," Tarrant said, falling into step by his side. He looked as though he hadn't slept all night, Gannon noticed, all shadowy eyes and paleness. But his voice was firm, and he didn't seem about to argue last night's decisions.

"It should be. True night is days away, so we shouldn't encounter anything troublesome along the road."

Tarrant nodded. "Some of my men will accompany you. They know the terrain and the local demon types, and I will not have it said that the king was harmed within the borders of Merentha."

They walked in silence for a few more steps, each man pursuing his own thoughts. That wouldn't have happened in the past; there had always been something to discuss, new ideas to be reviewed. Now Gannon wondered what he was supposed to talk to Tarrant about.

"I would ask a question, if I may," Tarrant said as they stepped outside.

"Of course."

"Has the Patriarch said anything about my position in the Church? I doubt I can still ask him personally."

So much behind that question… and that Tarrant even had to ask it showed that he was not quite willing to face the changes just yet. Otherwise he would have realized that there was only one decision the Patriarch could make. But he probably shouldn't be blamed for wanting to cling to a last remnant of hope.

Gannon sighed. "The Prophet cannot be an Adept at the same time, the Patriarch says. They won't strip you of your Church titles and rights, but you should not use them anymore."

Tarrant nodded, almost mechanically. "And Merentha?" he asked.

"I made you Neocount as a reward for your services in the past. You earned it; I'm not going to take it away. It's your neocounty, and that of your descendants after you." Besides, Gannon doubted that he'd easily find anyone else who could deal with the little fae-caused quirks of Merentha as well as Tarrant. As long as the man restrained his magical activities to his neocounty and kept them out of sight, Gannon would turn a blind eye, and hopefully the Church would as well. Otherwise he'd have to think of a way to deal with it.

"Thank you, my king."

"Many men would give much to be able to do this; stay on their own land without having to get involved in war or politics again."

"Many would, yes."

"No more campaigns, no more dealing with the Patriarch or the new Church orders... You'll be envied." Gannon waited a moment to see whether Tarrant wanted to say something, then nodded. "You will do well, Neocount. I expect you to do your best."

"I will, my king."

Tarrant did not accompany him the rest of the way to his horse, and Gannon did not look back to see whether the Neocount stayed in the courtyard until his guests had left, or whether he had disappeared before that. It was better not to know.

A week later a letter reached him, from Almea Tarrant. Her husband had suffered a heart failure that evening, she wrote. He lived, but the healers could do nothing to prevent it from happening again. But Tarrant was studying the problem, the Neocountess wrote, and he was confident there was a remedy. There was no need for the King to be concerned. No need to inconvenience himself by visiting.

It wasn't hard to read between the lines. Gannon had seen glimpses of Almea Tarrant's character underneath her polite court mask. There was no doubt that if she had made up her mind that his presence was not good for her husband, he would not set foot in Merentha Castle again.

Not that he intended to. The Patriarch had made it clear that the Church's support for a secular cause depended on Gannon keeping his distance from Gerald Tarrant from now on. And while Tarrant had been valuable in the past, he was only one man and could be replaced now that it was necessary. He'd fade from everybody's memory easily enough.


End file.
